It took almost 28 years, but it happened.
I got a bad haircut.
It was bound to happen sometime, right? I mean, the horror stories are all over the place. And I thought I knew how to avoid becoming one:
1) Go to a stylist you trust.
2) Show them pictures of what you want.
3) Be specific.
Success is in the bag, right?
Not right. NOT RIGHT.
I followed all of those steps and I still ended up with something I wasn't happy with.
Now, to be fair, just because I was unhappy with it might not mean that it was an objectively "bad" cut. I won't pretend to know anything about technique or whatever when it comes to cutting hair.
But I do know that this is what I wanted:
and that's not what I got. (Ha, you don't get a picture of what I got. Mostly because I
didn't couldn't get a good picture of it.)
(Side note: Can I just say that I ALWAYS end up with a pic of Emma Stone for my hair inspiration? That girl has got it goin' on. Plus she has more of a round face, like yours truly, so it all kind of works out. Side note over.)
I got something similarish...but about 2-3 inches shorter. So right at chin length. ^^That cut is NOT chin length. Am I right? I'm right.
Chin length + blunt cut + round face = bad news. It added weight to my face in all the wrong places. It looked more 60s mod than modern and fresh.
I tried for a few hours to accept it. When I got home, I teased it and played with it and texturized it, trying to style it into something I loved. I tried to accept the kind words from my husband, mom, and sister.
And then I went to Costco. And I realized that I didn't want anyone to look at me.
And I broke down. Hard.
Gosh, guys. That's embarrassing. I mean, I'd like to think that I'm a believer in "real" beauty. You know...
"What you look like isn't who you are."
"Nobody looks perfect all the time."
"Who cares what anyone looks like, anyway?"
"It's totally unfair that 'society' pressures us into putting so much value on our appearance."
"I'm so glad I'm beyond all that!"
Except apparently, I'm not. Like, really not.
I let Dallin cancel our plans for the evening. I had a long, hard cry into his shoulder. Every time I thought about it, I got upset all over again. I was a grumpy, emotional mess. The following morning, as early as I could, I called a salon to see if they could get me in that day. When they couldn't, I called another one that could.
And I was ashamed about how much I cared. I was so goshdarn ashamed that I freaking cared so much.
That's why I'm writing this post, really. Not to tell you a funny story about a haircut gone wrong. Not to tell you to never go to my stylist if you're in my area (because she's a lovely girl and has given me some great haircuts in the past, honest!). Not to tell you that yes, I did get a haircut to "fix" my haircut, and while what I have now isn't what I had originally envisioned, I'm pretty happy with it.
No, this post is a confession.
I confess, here and now, that I am not immune to the pressure to look a certain way. I am not above caring about my appearance. I do not have the confidence to feel good about myself even if I don't feel good about the way I look. There. I said it.
To be fair to myself, I do feel like I've made some improvement in this area in recent years. It's also a topic that's been on my mind recently -- the idea of beauty and "realness" and how people present themselves and what makes us happy and what it all meeeeans, man (said in my most hippie-ish voice). Those thoughts are slowly organizing themselves into a post that will hopefully have a little more purpose behind it than to simply confess.
But for now, before I get all preachy, I just want you to know that I'm in the trenches here. I'm really, honestly and truly, figuring this out. And I will figure it out, because I really do believe all those lovely "inner beauty" sentiments that are floating around out there. I just need to internalize them.
So I'd love to know...have you ever had a bad haircut? Or some other appearance related "disaster" that made you want to disappear? Ever?
...somebody please say yes.